All the Lights On
by aeternium
Summary: They may be old friends, but they really know nothing about one another. Two-shot companion piece to Mountains All In Flames.
1. Padmé

"You first, then," said Anakin, two cheeky eyebrows and a dimpled smile later. "What made you give up the life of ambition and politics?"

"Who said I gave up ambition?" she replied smoothly. "The world of fashion's not an easy ride."

He accepted this in stride. "So you gave up political ambition for another kind. Why?"

Padmé sighed, staring for a moment at a fry as she twirled it in her fingers.

"I never had any political ambition," she finally admitted. "I went into politics… this is difficult to explain. I went into politics because it was… expected. Politics on Naboo are sort of a family affair. Unofficial dynasties, I guess. My father's an ambassador, my great-grandmother was Princess of Doroda, my aunt's an advisor to the Queen… you get the idea."

"So you did it because your parents told you to."

"No!" she said, then quickly amended, "Well, not _exactly_. Like I said, it was just expected. Especially after Sola was so passionate about architecture – I didn't have a passion like that, or at least I didn't think I did, because we all just assumed I'd be the one to go into politics."

Anakin nodded, thinking about this. He didn't look upset, but his smile had certainly gone missing. She ignored this – he'd asked, after all.

"So I did. I did everything that was expected of me. We moved to Theed, I did my elementary at Hanoré, and then I got the pass to skip my superior. That's where things started to go wrong, I guess."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"I said I got the pass to skip it, not that I actually did. It scared my parents a bit, I think, and like I said, I wasn't passionate about it enough to really have an opinion."

"Back up," he said. "I thought your parents wanted you to be a politician. Wouldn't they be pleased if you started apprenticeship early?"

Padmé sighed. This was certainly not something she'd thought she'd be dragging up again today after all these years.

She twisted her mouth. "Yes and no. They were pleased, sure – there were only two in my class that year. But… they were worried about me. Those few that get the pass are automatically political opponents. They know that they'll be the elite, that they'll be in competition with each other."

"For what?"

"For the throne."

There was silence for a moment as Anakin digested this. Because suddenly it all made perfect sense.

"The other student who got the pass – it was Sabé, wasn't it?"

Padmé nodded. "My best friend. My parents weren't so ambitious for me that they were going to encourage their eleven year-old daughter to destroy her closest friendship."

"But you didn't even go back to school. You became her handmaiden. Didn't that bother you at all?"

"Ani, I told you, I didn't care enough either way," she said laughing, though he didn't find it terribly funny. "When she found out I wasn't going to take the pass, she asked me to stay with her. It's not a path most politicians would choose, but I was _eleven_. I just wanted to be with my friend.

"Then she became Princess of Theed, and we both had work to do. A handmaiden's job is… unorthodox, to say the least. For all intents and purposes, I was head of her security force, but I also served as a decoy, usually when it seemed there was a dangerous situation, sometimes just for fun. Then she won the election and became Queen, and my job was that much more important. Suddenly I was protecting my planet's monarch and my best friend. Kind of a tall order."

"Hold on," said Anakin, "You served as her decoy in dangerous situations?"

"Yes."

"But the Trade Federation crisis… when we met. Why didn't you switch places then?"

"We did at first," said Padmé. "When Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan arrived, I was the one who greeted them. I escaped dressed as Queen, Sabé in my entourage. But when we landed on Tatooine and Sabé wanted to go explore, I had to put my foot down. We didn't know anything about the planet other than that Captain Panaka said it was ruled by gangsters, so I offered to go sniff around for her. You know what happens next."

Anakin smiled, the memory of their first meeting rushing back to him. "I thought you were an angel the first time I saw you."

"I know. You told me."

"Oh, Force. I did, didn't I?"

"Mhm."

"I thought it was adorable. I still do."

Padmé leaned over the table and kissed his forehead. She immediately regretted it when he turned bright red, then decided she didn't regret it at all. They had always been affectionate with each other. What was ten years when that small part of her mind still couldn't let go of the concept of _my_ Ani. So she smiled at his blush and ruffled his hair, though there was much less of it than the last time she'd done so.

"Alright, alright, enough," he said, flattening his hair and grinning. Finally. "So you left. Why?"

She smiled and looked out the diner window for a moment, taking it all in for a moment before replying, "This city."

"What, Coruscant?"

A nod.

"After we returned to Theed, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was so big, so alive, you know? It felt like there were a million and five things for me to discover here, and for the first time in my life I really wanted something for me."

"Like your own life?"

"Don't be rude."

He laughed.

"_Anyways_," she said pointedly, though there was a hint of a smile, "I couldn't just pack my bags and leave, of course. There were a few things I had to sort out."

"Like Sabé."

"No, Sabé understood. But I wasn't going to leave before her term was up. I didn't know what I'd do if she was reelected, but it turns out I didn't even have to worry about that. Greejatus was a horrible senator and everyone knew it, and she wanted to give it a go. That's when I packed my bags and left."

"Weren't your parents disappointed?"

"No," she said, going for a fry and realizing there were none left. She stole one off Anakin's plate. "They were relieved. I think by that point we all knew it wasn't working for me. And I was seventeen by then – I'd developed a rather keen interest in fashion, so it was either U of A or FIC, and I already knew I wanted to get back to Coruscant. Aldera's a lovely city, but it doesn't have the same _umph_, you know?"

"And that's that."

"That's that," she agreed. "The rest is history. Your turn."

"Not so fast," he said, "We've still got what – six years to cover?"

"I've been here. Not much to tell."

"Doing what?"

"School for four years, two internships, got hired by Alaira Venet yesterday. Hence the hangover food."

"I was wondering," he said, smiling. He hesitated a moment, then leaned in and hugged her warmly. "Congratulations, Padmé. Your first job?"

"First _real_ job. Alaira's the editor-in-chief of _Galactica_. Six months with her – a year tops – and I could have my own studio, my own _line_ if I play my cards right."

"That's – wow. That's incredible, Padmé. I'm so excited for you."

"It doesn't seem quite real," she admitted.

He smiled at her. She smiled back. Silence lingered for a moment, and then it stretched on, but it was a comfortable one. There was something right about this, and something in Padmé words echoed in the pause between them. No, this is just about as real as it gets.

When Anakin looked up, Padmé's was fiddling with her empty mug of caf, and the large chrono that hung in nearby Meerk Square was sounding eleven-thirty.

_Eleven-thirty._

"E chu ta," he muttered. She frowned. "Sorry, Padmé," he said, "I'm supposed to be at the Temple for – "

"Oh, go, go!"

"You don't – "

"No, if you're late – "

"I'm really sorry about – "

"Go on, Ani, really."

"When will I see you again?"

She stopped for a moment, the words she had been about to say caught in her throat, then she breathed and smiled.

"Soon."

"Soon?"

"Yes," she laughed, "soon. Give me your datapad address, I'll message you."

He quickly wrote down the series of numbers and pushed it along the counter. "Don't let it be another ten years, alright?" he asked, only half a joke. Padmé rolled her eyes and pushed him off his stool.

"Of course, flyboy," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "After all, you still need to hold up your end of the deal."


	2. Anakin

_Four months later…_

"He doesn't matter."

"You have to tell me anyway."

"Why?"

"Because you promised."

"I did not."

"Yes, you did. We made a deal to talk about this stuff and you've somehow gotten out of it every time I try to bring it up." Before he could move, Padmé had slung herself over and was now straddling him, pinning him to the bed, which was not nearly as exciting a prospect as one might assume, given the circumstances. "You're not getting out of it this time, flyboy. Spill."

"Or what?" he grinned, eyes glued to her face in a remarkable show of restraint.

"Or else you'll never get to see me put my legs behind my head. It's pretty impressive."

His eyes went wide. "You – what?"

"Flexible genes. Sola can do it, too, but she's not the one whose bed you're in right now, is she? You going to talk yet?"

He thought about it for a moment, then smirked.

"No."

"_Ani_," she cried, exasperated, falling off of him back to her side of the bed. "Why the kriff won't you just tell me what you've been up to the past ten years? It can't have been _that_ terrible. Unless you were defiling Iegoese virgins or something, in which case I want full disclosure."

Anakin didn't laugh, though he let out an odd sort of snort at the irony.

"I already told you more or less everything," he said. "And that's not even what you were asking about."

Padmé propped her elbows up to rest her head. "Anakin Skywalker, you know practically everything about me. My whole life story, where I grew up, the name of the pet bird I accidentally killed when I was eight – "

"Lord Shurra," he laughed quietly to himself. She smacked him on the arm.

"I'm serious!"

"Padmé, why does it matter?" he sighed. "We're here and now, can't that be enough?"

She stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly open. Then, before he had time to register what had just happened, she was out of bed, pulling on her underwear with impressive vigor.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting dressed. Then I'm going to go into the kitchen and make myself something to eat. Then I'll probably get some work done. But I'm not coming back in here until you stop being such a stubborn ass."

Anakin groaned. "Seriously, why does it matter?"

"It matters, Anakin, because I care about you," she said heatedly, though some of the volume was lost behind the light tunic she was tugging over her head. "Because I care about you, and may possibly even love you, but I don't _know_ you. Not as well as I should, because you'll talk to me about anything – the Jedi, politics, how my work's going, shurra fruit, literally _anything_ except what might help me understand what you're thinking every once in a while. There's this whole history, this whole part of you I don't understand, and never will until you let me in."

She sighed.

"Look, Ani," she said testily, fastening her belt over the long skirt of the tunic, "This isn't an interrogation, and I'm not trying to drag up anything you don't want to talk about. I'm just… trying to understand."

There it was. It lay between them for a moment as Anakin digested this, hands folded neatly over his bare chest. Padmé stood near the doorway, unsure of whether she should actually leave or not, and was thankfully saved from actually making any sort of decision.

"Come on," he said quietly.

"What?"

"Come on, come back to bed," he repeated. No more than a moment's hesitation passed before she jumped back into his waiting arms, curled up by his side. Absentmindedly he began running his fingertips along the exposed skin of her arms.

"No interruptions?" he asked.

"No interruptions."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Okay."

But despite the tiny lead-in, Anakin fell silent. Padmé's ear close to his bare chest picked up on every trace of his steady inhales and exhales, the rise and fall of his breath.

"I have no idea who he was," he said finally, gazing straight onwards, never ceasing the gentle brush of fingertips up and down her bare arm. "The council thinks – Qui-Gon _thought_ – I was conceived by midi-chlorians, but it's a moot point."

"Why?"

"Because I was born in a brothel," he answered flatly. "It was a weird in-between. We'd already been sold – I'd made Mom useless to them – but the cantina didn't want us until I was born. Well, they didn't want to pay until I actually _existed_, the brothel didn't want to let her go without full payment – you can see how it might get complicated."

"I'll have to take your word for it," would have been Padmé's response, but she had promised, and lay there silently. Already this was far above anything in her experience, but at least he was finally talking.

"So there was the cantina for a bit," he continued. "I stayed upstairs usually while Mom was working – not that I remember any of it, keep in mind, I was three when we were sold again. Most of my memory is just Mom's stories. Except the blasters. I remember the blasters."

He fell quiet again for a moment.

"You told me when we met that you came to Mos Espa when you were three," said Padmé quietly, half-fearing he would suddenly decide he had said too much, that there would be another shouting match to open him up once more.

As it turned out, her worries were pointless.

"We were lucky. Ish."

"Ish."

"Slaves are sold for any reason, but usually it's a simple matter of business. The cantina was doing poorly, and it was less hassle to keep on the Rodian who didn't have a kid. Mom and I were lucky that we stayed together as long as we did."

"You said 'ish.'"

"You said you wouldn't interrupt. I'm getting there."

"Sorry."

"I don't know what kind of depraved bantha poodoo you have to be to consider Gardulla the Hutt's palace 'luck.' We were only there for two years, but it was… it was enough. The things I saw there… you wouldn't believe half of them, Padmé. The smell alone you probably wouldn't believe. Those are my first real memories. Just that smell, and having no room, and trying to stay close to Mom all the time. And that _smell_." He wrinkled his nose in disgust, as though the stench of the Hutt were right in that room, still with him after all these years. Which it might very well have been.

Anakin shifted under her and began to breathe normally again.

"Afterwards," he said, "I tried to forget about it. But some memories leave marks."

He raised his left pointer finger, the one that was large and stiff and didn't bend properly, and pointed at a thick patch of skin on his opposite elbow – bone had clearly punctured it there once, long before. It began to stray up behind his shoulder before Anakin thought better of it. Padmé knew what he would have found there. Naïvely, she had assumed that the network of silvery lines were courtesy of some freak battle accident. But they were stretched and embedded and nearly the exact color of his skin, a constant companion since childhood, she realized now.

"Every scar has a story," she breathed, and he kissed the top of her head.

"You shouldn't have to know about this," he said. "No one should, if they can help it."

Padmé frowned. "If we don't know about it," she said, "how do we help?"

Anakin looked at her for a moment, looked very hard, then kissed her full on the mouth. _Yes_, she dared to think for a moment, _yes, maybe everything's going to be just fine._


End file.
